


Ten Thousand Miles Away

by snack_size



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe, Brother/Brother Incest, Diego Throws Things with Incredible Accuracy, M/M, No Apocalypse, Sibling Incest, Sober Klaus Hargreeves, Vengeful ghosts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-14 16:18:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18055868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snack_size/pseuds/snack_size
Summary: First he appeared in the corner of Klaus’ vision. Klaus wasn’t even sure if he was actually there. He was more of the classic ghost - not under a sheet, but the shimmering grey mists you saw in all of those old-timey pictures. Not soft, though, not a whisper. It was something thick, it was just struggling to take shape. Klaus reverted to the useless childhood tactics, like, if you don’t look at him, then it will ignore you too. He even tried the Luther method - “I don’t see why it’s so hard, Klaus, you conjure them, just tell them to...shoo. Go away.”“Shoo!” Klaus said, waving a spatula at the thing - just outside the kitchen window, coming into slightly clearer focus on the beach. Walking up from the beach.





	Ten Thousand Miles Away

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to achilleees for reading, and for the prompt from a nonnie who gets it at FFA: Klaus's fragile sobriety is threatened by an especially angry ghost, who poses an physical threat to him. Diego helps--I assume by offering emotional support, but perhaps also by throwing things with incredible accuracy.

Klaus hadn’t put much thought into the consequences of that evening. This was pretty true for a lot of things in Klaus’ life - he was getting better at it! - but he was more immediately focused on staying sober. That required all of his attention, and more. Sometimes he just counted minutes.

 

What helped was being in the same cramped house with Luther and Vanya and Five and sometimes Allison and Diego. “Huh, who would have thought dad had a summer house?” Klaus said, when they found the place after meeting with the world’s slowest speaking human person who was, of course, Sir Reginald’s lawyer. 

 

“I am not surprised,” said Five. 

 

What was surprising was that it wasn’t nearly as grand as the Academy. It was just a nice house, on a quiet beach. The kind of house that had already served its purpose for Reginald, long before he decided to purchase seven children. Or the kind of house that would have had a purpose, but it never got to realize it. Klaus couldn’t imagine how the old fuck would have incorporated it into his torments, but then, creativity in this regard had always been one of his strengths. 

 

There were loads of advantages - Klaus couldn’t drive, ergo, he could not go into the nearest sleepy town and acquire things to divert him from his plan of continued sobriety. The first thing he did when he walked into the house, while he still had the wherewithal to do it, was begin to pour all of the dusty alcohol into the sink.

 

“I might like a drink,” Five said.

 

“Shut up,” Diego said, and gave Klaus a little nod and helped him with this task. Diego was always supportive, even if he was brooding by looking out the window and out to the sea and thinking of things and people he had lost. But then, weren’t they all? So Klaus nudged him with his hip as they made it through the inordinate amount of ancient liquors. 

 

Later that day, when Diego carefully made the grocery shopping list at the kitchen counter, Klaus slid up to him. “Hey big guy,” he said, “you want to get me a couple of cartons of cigarettes?”

 

Diego arched an eyebrow but then, in his tight handwriting, added  _ a couple of cartons of cigarettes  _ to the list. 

 

“Oh, and some lube,” said Klaus.

 

“No,” said Diego.

 

Klaus pouted and made very wide, sad eyes at Diego, suspecting that he especially would not be able to resist them. Diego just stared at him. “I think my sobriety would be a lot easier if I had some  _ release- _ ”

 

Diego groaned and wrote  _ some lube  _ on the list.

 

So Klaus counted the minutes and smoked cigarettes and looked out at the sea and thought, maybe I should get a hobby. 

 

Reflecting back on everything, later, when he was able to reflect, he decided it was because he had become complacent. 

 

It was probably also because he was focusing every fiber in himself on not walking, as far as it took, to get pills or heroin or alcohol or weed. He had to fight it every time he closed his eyes and he saw his dear old friends from the mausoleum. He could smell it in there, deep wet dirt and dead green things, he could remember clawing at stone walls until his fingers were bloody stumps. 

 

It was also probably because Klaus couldn’t have nice things. He was directly, arguably, responsible for saving  the world by conjuring Ben into corporeal form. What he neglected was that there was an obvious corollary to this. But why bother with that! He was sober and fine and everything was fine.

 

Klaus was sitting on the porch and smoking a cigarette and thumbing through a book - Russian literature, he decided, definitely a hobby - and there  _ he _ was. 

 

This required Klaus to backtrack and take inventory. For days now he had been sober, and he had been haunted - all his old friends, shrieking at him, wanting his attention, and some newer friends, very indignant about being assassinated by Time Cops. These were all hauntings he knew and could at least predict. Been there, done that, got the souvenir (my father locked me in a mausoleum overnight and all I got was this lousy shirt!) Oh, the twisted torque of that face. Oh, the bits of brain exposed. Oh, the demands for attention. The incessant shrieking. The mumbling in Russian. The new British guy who was always upset with Klaus’s grammar, of all things. 

 

For days now he had been sober, and Ben had been there. Ben, encouraging him and telling him how proud he was of him, which made Klaus blush and also feel weird and wibbly inside. Gelatinous. Ben, distracting him. Or just talking to him. “I still can’t believe you convinced Diego to let you drive the ice cream truck.”

 

“It didn’t take much convincing,” Klaus replied. “As soon as he realized he wouldn’t be able to throw a knife if he drove…” He grinned. He hummed Ride of the Valkyries. It had been nice to have an adventure with Ben. 

 

Sober, hauntings, Ben. All predictable. 

 

Not  _ him _ . 

 

First he appeared in the corner of Klaus’ vision. Klaus wasn’t even sure if he was actually there. He was more of the classic ghost - not under a sheet, but the shimmering grey mists you saw in all of those old-timey pictures. Not soft, though, not a whisper. It was something thick, it was just struggling to take shape. Klaus reverted to the useless childhood tactics, like,  _ if you don’t look at him, then it will ignore you too.  _ He even tried the Luther method - “I don’t see why it’s so hard, Klaus, you conjure them, just tell them to...shoo. Go away.” 

 

“Shoo!” Klaus said, waving a spatula at the thing - just outside the kitchen window, coming into slightly clearer focus on the beach. Walking up from the beach.

 

“Is there a fly, or something?” Luther asked, lurching into the doorway and then getting stuck in it, because the beach house had not been built for 21st century humans, let alone 21st century gorilla humans. 

 

“No,” Klaus said. He should have said yes. Luther was  _ trying to be a better brother  _ because a few of them - Diego, Klaus, definitely Allison - had pointed out that his locking Vanya up in the Vanya-containment prison had led to the destruction of their house, death of Mom and Pogo, and almost the apocalypse. 

 

“Go away,” he said, more forceful. Now Luther was staring at him. Klaus cleared his throat.

 

“Your, um, eggs?” Luther said.

 

Klaus wanted to keep an eye on the ghost - he was sure it was a him, as sure as he was that it was going to take approximately two months for Allison to forgive Luther and half a month after that for her to find out if he had a gorilla dick. Klaus felt like if he turned away from the ghost, he was really going to be in trouble. This was how it worked in 1) horror movies and 2) Klaus’s life. 

 

So he flung the spatula back in the direction of Luther and kept looking out the window. 

 

“It hit the floor,” Luther announced, and, when Klaus didn’t respond, Luther picked it up and wiped it off with a towel and then realized he could just turn the burner off on the stove instead of doing something like flipping the eggs.

 

“This is why no one likes you,” Klaus told him. Too harsh? 

 

Luther sighed. “I don’t know how to cook,” he said. “I didn’t cook. On the moon.” 

 

Klaus closed his eyes and reminded himself of the realization he had with Luther on the couch that morning. The moon thing was difficult to get your head around, because you could say it in a funny voice -  _ dad sent me to the moooooon -  _ but no matter how dumb, it was also one of Reggie’s many, many, many abuses.

 

“I’m sorry,” Klaus said.

 

The thing - the him - was gone, and so Klaus turned and now could immediately smell the mess he had made of his eggs. “Probably best to scrap it and start again.” 

 

“Do you… know how to cook?” Luther asked.

 

Klaus gestured down at the apron he was wearing - simple, floral, moth-eaten. It, like many other things in the house, gave an indication as to the last time the house had been used.

 

Luther looked at him like he always seemed to look at Klaus.

 

“Anyone can cook eggs, hot stuff,” Klaus said, and he got some more eggs from the fridge.

 

Teaching Luther to cook eggs was exhausting, and so Klaus took a nap, and when he woke up it was raining.  _ Went to get supplies, even Vanya -  _ Five had wrote and taped the note on the fridge (from the desk of Sir Reginald Hargreeves). Usually Five was not this communicative. Klaus took the note and smiled at it and tucked it into his jacket pocket and went outside to the porch because Vanya had very politely asked him not to smoke in the house and there was no way Klaus could say no to that. 

 

One second he was lighting his cigarette. The next second his new friend was right there.

 

“I’ve been waiting for you to see me, Klaus.” Sailor, 1800s. Probably early 1800s. Violent something or other - lots of dried blood. Scratches, cuts, oh, there was a ligature. Klaus had got  _ very  _ good at ghost taxonomy, before he discovered weed and booze and so on and so forth. 

 

“Fuck you!” Klaus said, poking his cigarette at him.

 

“If you want me to,” the sailor said. “You’re pretty enough.” 

 

“Great, so you’re just going to...sexually harass me,” Klaus said. He waved his cigarette at him again, near some skin exposed by a rip in his coat.

 

There was the tiniest sizzling sound.

 

The sailor recoiled.

 

They both saw the little tendril of smoke.

 

“Oh, nooo,” Klaus said, immediately remembering that he had recently discovered a brand new shiny ability to make ghosts corporeal. But Ben hadn’t lasted that long. Or it hadn’t seemed that long, at least, Klaus had kind of blacked out for that part and then saw stars. The whole thing had sucked. It was like a reverse orgasm.

 

The sailor lunged right for Klaus’ throat. “Hey!” Klaus said. Why were ghosts all so pissed off? And why at Klaus? He almost never had anything to do with it - hell, the one ghost he was most responsible for was also the friendliest. 

 

He kicked at him, and the sailor laughed. “I know about boys like you,” he said, and Klaus kicked him again and actually made contact this time. Not used to pain, the sailor staggered back - it had to be this, it was not like Klaus could kick that hard - which was enough time for Klaus to skitter in off the porch and lock the door. 

 

“Fuck you!” he said, to the ghost, because if he was corporeal he was going to have to sort out the door situation. 

 

“Oh, sweetness,” the ghost said. 

 

Worth investigating, Klaus decided, was weaponry. Like the canoe paddle above the fire - better, the fireplace poker. Klaus flipped off the ghost and then decided he was going to have to turn away from it.

 

Klaus ran into the living room. Klaus literally ran into Diego.

 

“Diego?” Solid, muscular, smelled like leather. Definitely Diego.

 

“Whoa, whoa, where are you going?” Diego asked, in that way of his that sometimes made things sound more like invitations. Or maybe they just sounded like that to Klaus. It was probably because he was still trying to deal with how hot Diego had become in the intervening thirteen years since Klaus had last seen him. 

 

Klaus opened his mouth, and then realized there was far too much to have to explain. He tried to get around Diego, but then Diego had grabbed both his shoulders. “Hey - Klaus?”

 

“Ghost,” Klaus said.

 

“Oh,” Diego said, and he nodded his head. “Yeah, I guess you’re seeing them again. You know, I’m… proud of you.”

 

So many questions - where was Ben? Why was Diego here? What the fuck was Klaus’ life? Also, if Klaus was actually seeing a goddamn ghost, why did Diego think giving him a big brother pick me up talk was going to make a difference?

 

Then Diego made a very un-Diego yelping sound, high-pitched and enough to bring Klaus back into the present. “The fuck-”

 

The ghost was staring in the window. The ghost wanted them to know it had a hatchet from the wood pile.

 

“Remember how I made Ben corporeal when we were in the theater and the tentacles and he killed all of those - well, oops, I did it again. I played with your heart, got lost in the-” Klaus said all of this as quickly as could, though he sang the last part. 

 

“Klaus,” said Diego. “Do you know how to-”

 

“Sure don’t,” said Klaus. “Ben just - once he killed them all, it was over, which was good, because I thought I was going to have a heart attack. Just a guess, but since this one’s not summoning eldritch abominations, probably has a little more, uh, staying power?” This guess was given credence by the sound of the ax hitting the door. How many swings of a hatchet = tentacular devastation?

 

“If he can hold an ax, he can get stabbed,” Diego said, and he got that look in his eye like he had right before he was about to bust into Hazel and Cha-Cha’s Torture Emporium. 

 

“Yes,” Klaus said. “But, through the door?” 

 

Diego was already in the kitchen. “You open the door. Then I’ll stab him.” 

 

“Um.” So many objections! What happened if Klaus opened the door just as the ghost-sailor was swinging the ax? Did either of them know, with absolute certainty, which direction the door opened in? 

 

“Klaus!” said Diego.

 

This was why Klaus had never been good on missions or on crime fighting. Sometimes you just had to make decisions and commit to them, stupid as they may be. “This is why you’re a Gryffindor,” he said, to Diego, and then he opened the door.

 

If his life were a movie, the moment would feature several cuts-

 

Diego, throwing the butcher knife, and since Klaus was directing this movie it would focus on Diego’s bicep and tricep and other notable arm muscles. 

 

The knife, slowly flying in the air.

 

The ghost, lunging for Klaus.

 

The knife, hitting the ghost right between the eyes. Dead between, even (haha).

 

The knife, clattering down onto the floor of the porch, because the ghost immediately vanished from this plane.

 

Diego and Klaus having a coffee and a cigarette and laughing about this.

 

Definitely not a cut to Klaus falling to ground in a sad, crumpled little pile. 

 

“Klaus,” said Diego. Now, for some reason, he was whispering.

 

“Uh-huh,” Klaus said, curling up further into himself - the operating theory being, if he was smaller, there was less of him, and thus, fewer possibilities of things happening. 

 

Diego got down on the floor with him and sat next to him, and put a hand on the side of Klaus’s thigh. “So,” he said, after a long moment, “That was a thing that happened.” 

 

“OK, that’s a good start,” Klaus said. 

 

“But we handled it.” 

 

“You handled it,” Klaus said. Klaus was fairly certain that if Diego had not been there, he would have died. 

 

“I did,” said Diego. Klaus could hear the smirk in his voice.

 

“It was one ghost,” Klaus said. 

 

“With an ax.” 

 

“It was a hatchet.” Klaus shifted so he could look at Diego while he judged him. 

 

“I still handled it,” said Diego, arching an eyebrow. 

 

“I’m pretty sure you’ve handled much thornier situations,” Klaus said. “I’m grateful. I’m just saying, maybe don’t be so proud of yourself for this one.” 

 

Diego smiled, just slightly, and that was enough to get Klaus to move into more of a seated position. It felt better to be upright, but it also meant Diego wasn’t touching him anymore. 

 

“I need a drink,” Klaus said. 

 

“No,” Diego replied. 

 

“Oh, fuck off,” said Klaus. “I was fine - fine! - being sober with all the ghosts.” Fine was not the right word. There was a better one, but Klaus couldn’t figure out what it was. “But attack ghosts? No. Absolutely not.” He moved to stand, but Diego grabbed his wrist and held it. 

 

Diego was very strong. 

 

“Klaus,” Diego said. “We handled it.” 

 

“Do you know how many of them there are?” Klaus asked, beginning to feel a little hysterical. “I don’t know how I did that, or how to make it stop - I can’t even make all the other ones go away!” 

 

“That one went away,” Diego said. “Guess someone’s just going to have to help you with that.” He nodded his head and let go of Klaus’s wrists.

 

“Go fight crime,” Klaus said, standing up. 

 

“Klaus-”

 

“I need a cigarette,” Klaus said, and he walked through the open door, over the knife, and onto the porch. 

 

Diego joined him after a moment. He handed him a glass of water.

 

This made Klaus cry. It shouldn’t. It was so stupid. And the last person he wanted to cry in front was Diego. 

 

“Hey,” Diego said. He looked down at Klaus for awhile, which - well done, Diego. Klaus put his head in his hands. This was like when they were teenagers, Diego, accomplishing something. Klaus, unable to get past everything. “Hey,” he said, again, and sat down next to him. “I - that was fucking terrifying, OK?”

 

“Uh-huh,” said Klaus. “How does that make me feel better? I don’t know how to even control - let alone-”

 

“I know,” said Diego. “That’s why I said, I’m going to stay.” 

 

Klaus turned and looked at him. He probably looked terrible, from the sweat and the smeared eyeliner. “OK,” he said. “But-”

 

“Stabbing it between the eyes made it go away,” Diego said. “Should work on the next one.” He shrugged. 

 

This was, Klaus thought, the difference between having a physical power and a mental one. 

 

Not that Diego was… wrong. 

 

“Until you get it figured out,” said Diego. 

 

“That might be awhile,” Klaus said, and he laughed, weird and high-pitched. “You sure you can stand Luther for that long?” 

 

Diego flapped his hand. 

 

Klaus decided not to pursue this, finished smoking his cigarette, and looked out onto the ocean. “You want to watch TV or something?” he asked. 

 

“Sure,” Diego said. He watched as Klaus scrolled through his Netflix feed with a look of concern on his face.

 

“You want to see Five’s?” Klaus asked.

 

“No,” said Diego. “You’re really going to watch a baking show?” 

 

“Right now, I need Mary Berry,” Klaus pronounced. He was surprised when Diego sat on the couch with him. Honestly, he was still very surprised by all of the interactions he had had with Diego since Five had come back and all this nonsense had started. They had not parted on good terms. Diego had been really angry with him and Klaus still couldn’t really articulate why.

 

Klaus was even more surprised when he woke up and he was sleeping a little bit on Diego’s shoulder. This was because Diego had put a small throw pillow between the two of them. 

 

“That took a lot out of you,” he said. “Did you crash like this after-” 

 

“Yeah,” Klaus said, looking over at Ben, finally deciding to reappear. Klaus could have used his help, earlier. He narrowed his eyes at him. Ben flipped him off. Cute. 

 

He wasn’t surprised that Diego didn’t remember. Klaus had gone to a hotel with Allison, staggering, almost drunk, while Five and Diego and Luther bickered about what to do with Vanya. She had tucked him into bed.  _ Thank U 4 saving us,  _ she wrote, on the stupid little pad that Luther had supplied her with. 

 

“You should go to bed,” Diego said. 

 

Klaus frowned. He usually fell asleep on the couch because he could have the television on so that whenever he woke up from what was invariably a nightmare, there would be something anchoring him back to reality, even if it was just another true crime documentary. 

 

“No,” he said.

 

“Klaus,” Diego said, and he reached and tried to right Klaus,the beginning of an effort to push him upright. Klaus wriggled away from him.

 

“Stop treating me like a child-” 

 

“Then stop acting like one!” 

 

Klaus turned and looked at Diego, turning his head to the side. “What am I supposed to do? Be sober, Klaus. Don’t be depressed, Klaus. Don’t mind the ghosts, Klaus. Act like an adult, Klaus. We saved the world, Klaus. Don’t worry about how the ghosts can kill you now, Klaus-” 

 

He stopped only when Diego put a hand on his shoulder, turning and facing him. “Hey. None of this has ever been easy. For any of us.” 

 

“Yeah,” Klaus said - remembering Patch. Remembering the things that dad had done to Diego, to push him, to get him to realize his full potential. Remembering how he and Diego had watched as the Academy crumbled, Mom with it. “Sorry,” Klaus said. He looked over at Ben, who had a constipated expression.

 

“What?” Diego said. 

 

Ben shook his head at Klaus, very slowly, and got up and left the room. 

 

“Just-” Klaus said, and he leaned in and rested his forehead on Diego’s shoulder. “I really am tired,” he said. Diego rubbed at his upper back. “I just want something nice.”

 

“I know,” Diego said. “I mean, we did save the world.”

 

“Woo,” said Klaus. He looked up at Diego and held his eye. “Sometimes I kind of wish we hadn’t.” 

 

It seemed like they sat and looked at each other for a really long time. Klaus had always really liked Diego’s eyes - they were very comfortable. Without really thinking about it - but kind of thinking about it - Klaus leaned in closer and kissed Diego, very light. Mostly not to startle him too much because he was certain that Diego’s instinct would be to stab anything unexpected.

 

Diego moved his hand to the back of Klaus’s neck and seemed to kind of maybe be kissing him back. It was unclear, so Klaus pulled back and this time he couldn’t look at him so instead he focused on his neck. “Sorry,” he said. 

 

“No, uh - hey,” Diego said, lifting his chin with his hand. “Don’t be sorry.” 

 

“But that was a really bad idea,” Klaus said.

 

Diego nodded his head, raising his eyebrows and widening his eyes to effectively convey how much he agreed with Klaus on this. “That’s never stopped me before,” he said, and then he leaned in and kissed Klaus again, harder this time, a little desperate. Klaus moved in closer to him and climbed a little bit into his lap, wrapping an arm around Diego to steady himself. 

 

They kissed for a very long time. Probably a whole Technical challenge, though Klaus mostly drowned out the quality reality program going on in the background. Eventually, though, Diego pulled away and nuzzled into his neck. “We should go up to bed.”

 

“Was that just an elaborate ploy to get me to bed?” Klaus asked. 

 

“Yes,” Diego said, smirking at him. “C’mon - who knows when they’ll all get back.” 

 

Klaus nodded and let him hoist him up off the couch by his hand. He held Diego’s hand as they went up to the bedroom Klaus had claimed, down at the end of the hallway, where the roof slanted and there was a little nook. He’d put pillows and blankets and some string lights in it. Several books and scraps of paper littered the floor. 

 

He looked at Diego, apprehensive. It could still be a ploy. “Um,” he said. “Are we going to talk about-”

 

“Probably no,” said Diego, nodding at him. He kissed Klaus and guided him to the bed, getting him to sit down on it more delicately than Klaus might have liked. 

 

“You can’t break me,” Klaus said, before he started to kiss down on Diego’s neck and tug at his shirt. Now that they were really doing this, Klaus was invested. Klaus wanted Diego naked so he could see every inch of him. Put his mouth on every inch of him.

 

Diego chuckled at this, soft and warm - like his eyes. “I guess you can’t,” he said.

 

Klaus liked this acknowledgement. He finally succeeded in getting to take his shirt off and, to show his appreciation, he tugged Diego onto the bed and kissed down his chest and ran his teeth over one of his nipples. He let his hand slide down, savoring the muscles at Diego’s side, and then drift over and cup his cock. “Have you done this before?” 

 

“Yes,” said Diego, but there was an edge to his voice. 

 

It was imperative not to make a joke about which sibling he had fucked. Klaus massaged Diego’s cock and leaned back, looking up at his face. “With a guy?”

 

“I - not… exactly,” Diego said. 

 

Klaus nodded his head and smirked, because this was the answer that he had been hoping for. There was a lot of pressure being the first - both on performance and outcome. Klaus had wooed and blown and got fucked by his share of straight men. But this, this demonstrated that Diego was open to the cock thing. He just had not had the opportunity to explore it. 

 

To reward him, Klaus removed his hand and tugged Diego’s pants down. Diego moved to get further into the bed, and Klaus put a hand on his hip, smiling at the utilitarian and very tight boxer briefs. Had Klaus been momentarily distracted by Diego’s cute little ass when he was running up the stairs after him at that motel? Yes.

 

Klaus moved fast, putting his mouth on Diego’s cock and sucking through the fabric. He was rewarded with a hand in his hair and a very hard tug. “Yes, fuck - Klaus?”

 

“I’m going to suck you off,” Klaus said, pulling at Diego’s boxer briefs. 

 

“What about...you?” Diego asked, as Klaus kissed at his thighs, ran his tongue along his hipbone. 

 

“Whatever you want,” Klaus said, and then he had Diego’s cock in his mouth. The gasp that greeted this was perfection. Klaus hadn’t been this hard in… in a very long time, his own need pulsing through him. He loved sucking cock. 

 

And Diego knew exactly what to do, tightening his grip in Klaus’s hair and gasping and moaning to encourage him along. He twisted when Klaus teased for too long, and this was when Klaus slowly pulled up the length and looked up, because he wanted to see Diego. His eyes were wide, his face was pretty and flushed, and he was definitely more than a little undone. 

 

This was something nice.

 

“I want to be good for you,” Klaus said, licking his lip.

 

“Fuck - then, fuck, I want to come,” Diego managed, all nice and breathy and worked up. 

 

Klaus didn’t tease, instead moving fast and using his tongue, holding Diego by his hips and moaning when his mouth was flooded with come. Klaus kept his mouth on him through the final shudder and then longer, eventually pulling off and kissing his way up, slow and easy, giving Diego time to savor it and recover.

 

Diego pulled him in for a kiss, and Klaus grinned against it. Always a good sign. He sucked on Diego’s lip when he pulled back. “Hey,” he said. Diego ran his hand through his hair and then used his other hand to grab Klaus, hard, finger tips pressing into his hips. Klaus bit at his lip and found himself pulled tight and close to Diego.

 

Klaus almost pointed out the lube but then thought better of it. He did not need to break the spell. Instead he kissed Diego, who ran his hand over Klaus. Diego only pulled back his hand so he could spit on it. This was better. This felt closer. 

 

“Fuck, Diego,” he groaned. He was close, he realized - all his attention drawing to his own need, the tightness in his belly and the warmth that was rapidly spreading. The pleasure that shot straight from Diego’s strong hand and the loose, wild kisses between them. 

 

He let himself sink into Diego, sink into the pleasure, concentrate on the coiling warmth and the heightened tension and then the beautiful release. “Fuck, fuck,” he said. He looked Diego in the eyes. He maybe shouldn’t have done that. “Diego,” he said. 

 

“Yeah,” Diego said, and he had a strange, soft smile on his face. He brushed some hair out of Klaus’s eyes and Klaus snuggled into him further, wanting to be warm and wrapped up in him. 

 

“You gonna sleep here tonight, then?” 

 

“You really took that  _ far, _ ” Klaus said. “I admire your commitment.” He only stopped when Diego put his dry hand on his mouth. Klaus smiled against it. 


End file.
